Aunt Esther’s Cookie Jar
by Trina Gaynon
Just another bright yellow Dutch Girl,
she doesn’t hold any cookies tucked
under her apron, inside her skirt.
Her tricorner hat, one tip chipped off,
took the brunt of the damage of time.
Her eyes downcast, she’d welcome a smile.
Her short arms open wide for anyone
who might need a tight ceramic hug.
‘Til then she remains hollow, hollow.
Gyroscope Review 16
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